A Tragedy for Two Networks
by ElegantButler
Summary: An accident on what was supposed to be a wonderful day, deprives Networks 23 and 66 of their respective heads of technology.
1. Chapter 1

-Max Headroom - 20 Minutes into the Future-

-A Tragedy for Two Networks-

by Elegant Butler

-Chapter One-

It was supposed to have been the best day of their lives.

Bryce Lynch had awakened on that Saturday morning with an uncharacteristic smile on his face. There was a very good reason for it being there. He was getting married. Not that anyone else at Network 23 knew about it. They would have probably said he was too young. And his boss would've pitched seven thousand blue fits. After all, his fiancee, Jenny, was from Network 66.

Of course, as with all lovers, that didn't matter to Bryce or Jenny. And when he had asked Network 23's in-house priest, the Reverend Vanna Smith, to perform the wedding, she had been delighted. Even more so when she'd been asked not to tell Edison.

"It's none of his business," she had agreed, cheerfully. "You two just decide where you want the wedding, and I'll be there."

She had kept her promise and had even driven Bryce to the spot where the wedding was to take place.

She'd asked a couple of her parishioners to serve as witnesses, to make the wedding nice and legal. And they had kept their silence as well.

It had been a beautiful wedding, small as it was. Jenny wore a pretty pink and blue sundress with a blue bow in her hair. Her eyes were sparkling and filled with love as she arrived at the agreed-upon location in the taxi that they'd agreed on for her.

Bryce and Vanna waited on the steps of the old abandoned church for Jenny. The taxi pulled away and Bryce saw her for the first time that day. In that moment, his love for her grew exponentially.

If Vanna Smith had had any doubts about whether their love was mature enough for marriage, they had left as soon as she saw the look in Bryce's eyes. She watched as Jenny started toward them. She suddenly went off balance as her shoe came off. She stumbled and bent to retrieve it.

"Jenny!" Bryce cried out, seeing the recklessly driven car turn the corner moments before she did.

Vanna grabbed Bryce before he could throw himself at Jenny to push her away. She knew he'd never be able to save her in time. That if he'd been allowed to try, they both would've been killed.

Bryce scratched and bit at her until she let go. Then he turned and saw Jenny. A shrill scream erupted from his lips as he ran to her, more screams following. And who could blame him. Moments ago, she had been the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on. Now she was a torn, twisted, and bleeding mess. Her dress was now a mass of rags, covered in blood and tire tracks. Her face was mostly obliterated. One of the tires had run over her head. Her spine was shattered, and several bones jutted out of her limbs and torso.

Bryce embraced her anyhow, sobbing and screaming as he clung to her, rocking her lifeless body as though it were a sleeping child.

Vanna approached him, trying of offer comfort. But the moment she touched his arm, he glared at her, and she backed off. He wanted to be left alone with his grief. This was something Vanna understood. She'd help many other parishioners deal with such things in the past. When he was ready to talk, she would be there for him.

Eventually, a grey van pulled up, and Vanna realized someone must've called Breughal and Mahler.

"Bring her body to Gladhand Meadows," she instructed them, paying them the usual bribe that such a transaction required.

"Of course," Breughal said, gazing at Bryce. "I can see that she is deeply loved. And I am moved by such heartfelt emotion."

When Breughal bent to pick up Jenny's lifeless body, Bryce clung to her even more tightly and began screaming angrily and tearfully at him.

"Don't you touch her!" the distraught young genius sobbed "Stay away from us! I won't let you cut her up, or burn her up! You can't have her! Leave us alone!"

After they'd tried multiple times to wrestle Bryce away from Jenny's mangled body, they finally called the hospital and told them the situation. Another five minutes passed before an ambulance arrived. It took all three paramedics to get Bryce sedated and onto the stretcher.

"I need to tell Cheviot what's going on," Vanna told the head paramedic. "Give me any details you can."

"Given what we've just observed," the man said as Bryce was placed into the ambulance, still screaming Jenny's name, his eyes filled with terror and emotional agony.

"he'll be hospitalized in the psychiatric unit at Islington for at least a week until he recovers from this tragedy. He'll be on suicide watch given the events that have taken place, and will receive intensive therapy to help him deal with what has happened."

"Thank you," Vanna said, as she sat down heavily on the church steps.

"How about you," the paramedic asked. "Do you need anything?"

"No, thank you," Vanna shook her head. "I think I'll be alright. I feel so sorry for them. This was supposed to be there wedding day."

"I can understand why he's so grief-stricken," the paramedic sympathized. "He'll be taken very good care of."

Vanna got into her car and followed the ambulance.

When they'd got to the psych hospital in Islington, she used one of their vu-phones to call Cheviot.

Cheviot's face appeared on the vu-phone screen. "What can do for you this morning, Reverend?" he asked.

"I'd say good morning, but it would be inappropriate," Vanna replied. "I'm sorry. But I have bad news…"

She relayed the details of the would-be elopement and of the accident that had cut it so tragically short. Then she told him where Bryce had been taken, and that he needed to come to fill out the paperwork.

"I'll be right there," Cheviot said, in a voice as heavy as she knew his heart must be.

She waited there until he arrived. Then she quietly excused herself and drove to the nearest pub, to drown her grief in drink.

Cheviot filled out the paperwork, went to see Bryce. He watched the young genius sleep, heavily sedated, for nearly half an hour before closing the door and heading back to the guest lobby.

"We'll keep you informed of his progress," the doctor promised at the door. "And we'll let you know when he is ready for visitors. Until then, please don't send anyone over. We can't be sure yet what will set him off."

Cheviot nodded, then left and headed to Network 23, wondering how he would tell the rest of Edison's team what had happened.


	2. Chapter 2

Cheviot sat in his car at Network 23 for almost half an hour before he finally got out and went into the building.

"Good morning, sir," Lauren said, meeting him at the lift. Seeing the look on his face, she asked "What's wrong?"

"Bad news about Bryce," Cheviot told her. "I have to tell Murray."

"Bryce isn't dead, is he?" Lauren asked, horrified at the idea.

"No," Cheviot shook his head. "Just insane. Whether it's temporary or not, I can't say. I only know that he was apparently engaged, which I knew nothing about, and he saw his fiancee get hit by a car. They said it was extremely gruesome. Seeing her body like that just caused his sanity to go right out the window. He's in the psychiatric ward at Islington Hospital."

"Oh God," Lauren said. "That's awful."

"I also have to call Grossberg," Cheviot said. "Apparently the girl Bryce was engaged to was Network 66's head of Research and Development."

"Just like Romeo and Juliet," Lauren noted.

"Except that Romeo was spared insanity." Cheviot reminded her as they got off the lift and walked into the Board Room.

Cheviot sat down at the head of the table and pushed the buttons for the room's vu-phone. A moment later, Murray's face appeared on the screen.

"Mr. Cheviot," Murray said, "good morning."

Cheviot did not return the friendly greeting. Instead, he frowned. "Murray, I'm afraid I have rather bad news for you."

Murray's face fell. "What's wrong? Edison's not in some kind of trouble is he?"

"Fortunately not," Cheviot reassured him. "I just wish I could say the same for Bryce."

"What sort of trouble is Bryce in?" Murray inquired. He didn't necessarily get along well with Bryce, but he didn't wish any ill on the young genius.

"Did you know he had a girlfriend?"

"This is the first I've heard of it," Murray said. "She's not pregnant, is she?"

"No. She's dead. He saw her get hit by a car. Apparently it was extremely gruesome."

"How is he handling it?"

Cheviot took a breath before replying. "It drove him insane. He's under heavy sedation at Islington Hospital's psychiatric unit."

"My God," Murray breathed.

"What?" asked Edison who had just arrived and noticed Cheviot's face on the vu-phone monitor in the Control Room.

"I'll let you explain," Cheviot told Murray. "I have to call Grossberg. I want to make sure he knows about Jenny. Oh, and no visitors until I say."

"His fiancee?" Murray asked.

"Grossberg's engaged?" Edison asked.

Murray shook his head as Cheviot vanished from the screen. "Jenny was Bryce's fiancee."

Edison dropped his camera. Something inside it made a rackety sound.

Murray winced briefly as he thought of the chewing-out he was going to get about the broken camera that lay at Edison's feet.

"So, when is Bryce getting married?"

"At this point, never," Murray said. "Jenny was killed."

"Bryce must be very sad," Edison realized.

"It actually drove him insane," Murray explained. "Apparently he saw her get hit, and her injuries were rather horrific. Cheviot didn't give me any details other than what I just told you."

"What hospital is he at?"

"You heard Cheviot. No visitors. I'm sure they want to make sure we don't set off any triggers that will make Bryce worse."

"Make Bryce worse?" Theora asked as she walked in and hung her coat over her chair. "What do you mean?"

"Apparently Bryce is in the psychiatric ward at Islington Hospital," Edison explained. "He saw the love of his life get killed by a car. That's all I know."

"And it drove him insane," Theora guessed.

Murray nodded.

"That's horrible," Theora said. "Can he have visitors?"

Murray shook his head. "Apparently they want to make sure he's stable first. It might be some time before we can go see him."

"But they are going to keep us updated, right?" Edison asked.

"I guess they'll keep Cheviot updated," Murray replied. "We'll just have to wait it out and hope for the best."

Grossberg was going over the ratings for Network 66 when Cheviot's face appeared on his vu-phone screen.

"Ben," he said, "It's very strange for you to be calling me. Aren't you always telling me that we're rivals or something?"

"I'm not calling to invite you to tea," Cheviot told him. "This is very bad news."

"Oh?"

"It's about Jenny."

"This network's equivalent to Bryce Lynch? What of her?"

"She's dead."

Grossberg's expression darkened. "How?"

"She was hit by a car. Bryce was so adversely affected by it that it drove him insane."

"How did it happen? And how does Bryce know?"

"From what I gather," Cheviot explained, "It was supposed to be their wedding day. Bryce saw her get hit by a car. It was so horrific that it drove him over the edge. They took him to Islington Hospital screaming. He's in the psychiatric ward. He spent the night under sedation. I imagine they have him on suicide watch."

"Where's Jenny's body?"

"I'll have to ask Vanna. She was with them when it happened. Apparently she was going to perform the wedding."

"Let me know," Grossberg said. "And keep me informed about Bryce. Remember, I'm the one who hired him. I do care about his well-being."

"I will." Cheviot agreed. "But I will also remind you that this doesn't change the fact that our networks are at war."


	3. Chapter 3

-Chapter 3-

He lay on his side in a bed of the psychiatric unit of Islington Hospital. There was a look of confusion on his face as he tried to remember why he was there. And, more importantly, who he was. His eyes stung with half-remembered tears. But he could not recall why he had shed them.

He stood up, shakily, and walked over to the barred window. He touched the bars in confusion. Was he in some kind of jail, he wondered. Had he committed some terrible crime? Was he to spend his life in prison, or even be executed for some murder he couldn't remember like the movies that were sometimes on TV?

The thought of television nudged at the darkness of his memory. But it refused to budge, instead only bringing more tears.

He opened the dresser and found eight identical outfits. They were labeled, not with his name, but with days of the week. There was a note on top of the dresser which simply said "It's Tuesday" so he put on the outfit for Tuesday. Then, he sat on the bed and waited to see if anything would happen.

A few minutes later, a man in his mid thirties walked into the room.

"Good morning," he said in a friendly tone. "My name is Paul Santos. I'm a nurse here."

"Do you know my name?"

"Yes, but I'm not permitted to tell you," Nurse Santos apologized. "You've been traumatized and we're afraid that jogging your memory before you're ready could cause another psychiatric breakdown."

"I understand. Then this is a mental hospital?" his face fell considerably.

"Hey, don't be so glum," Nurse Santos told him. "Psychiatric facilities of modern days bear no resemblance to those of the days of Bedlam and it's ilk. This facility has many activities designed to challenge and refresh the mind. We believe that healthy mental exercise may not cure mental illness, but that it does often help take the edge off some of the symptoms."

"Do I have a mental illness?"

"In a way. Dr. Cairns will explain it to your further. You have an appointment with her after breakfast. I'm just here to take you to the bathroom to freshen up and then to the cafeteria. After that, I'll give you a tour of the facility and show you where everything else is."

"Can we avoid the TV room. I don't know why, but…"

"That's easy since we don't have one," Nurse Santos told him. Seeing the shocked expression, he explained. "You're not the only client here who has suffered a severe mental breakdown caused by a traumatic event. And many programs, like Missile Mike, are known to set off bad memories with their loud explosions and such. So rather than risk it, we just avoid the problem altogether."

"Sounds like a sensible precaution," .

After stopping off at the bathroom, which he needed no help with, he followed Nurse Santos to the cafeteria. There were about three dozen people in the room, most of whom were already at their tables. Some were finished their meals, some just started, some in the middle of eating.

Picking up tray, he got in the line with the few who were still picking their breakfasts. Selecting scrambled eggs with sausages and small plastic glass of chocolate milk, he sat down at a table and ate quietly.

He was nearing the end of his breakfast when a young woman with medium-toned skin and friendly brown eyes came over to his table.

"Good morning," she said. "I'm Dr. Cairns. We have an appointment in ten minutes. I'll walk you to my office since you don't know where it is."

"Thank you."

After he was done, he followed Dr. Cairns to her office. It was tastefully bland, the walls beige with cream trim, not the stark white of fictional hospitals.

"Please, have a seat," Dr. Cairns invited as she sat in her own chair.

The chair that he sat in was as comfortable as the rest of the room.

"I know you don't understand why you're here," Dr. Cairns began. "But let me start by saying you have done absolutely nothing wrong. You're here because you saw something your mind couldn't handle. That's all I can say about it. What we're going to do is just talk about your feelings. I know that sounds corny, but I've talked to a friend of yours, and he said you never really learned how to cope with emotion. I think that's one of the reason your mind snapped when you had to deal with a very strong negative emotion on top of a visual trauma."

"Can my mind be fixed?"

"It will heal with time and care," Dr. Cairns told him, soothingly. "Tell me now. How did you feel this morning when you first woke up?"

"Confused and sad. There were tears on my face, like I was crying in my sleep. I guess I had a sad dream." He frowned as if this statement were contradictory to something, but he wasn't sure what. "Nurse Santos said you'd tell me what I have."

"You have a condition known as psychological amnesia," Dr. Cairns explained. "What that means is that your mind has locked you out of your memories to shield you from a severe emotional trauma. Don't ask me to remind you of what happened. I won't. That would only shatter you further. My job is to strengthen you mentally and emotionally so that you will have the tools you need to unlock your past yourself."

"Can I at least know my name?"

"I'm afraid not," Dr. Cairns apologized. "In dealing with psychological amnesia, we have learned that discovering one's own identity is the most dangerous moment of all."


	4. Chapter 4

-Chapter 4-

A young hand reached out for a stuffed animal that wasn't there. Eyes flew open with a sudden gasp.

The room's shadows were unfamiliar to the boy who sat there, squinting in bewilderment. He put his glasses on, but that only confused him further.

He stood up and walked to the door, opening it. Looking up and down the corridor, he saw a woman in a nurse's uniform. He'd been taught not to speak to strangers. But nurses were okay, weren't they? But maybe she was busy.

Nurse Sally Eigen noticed that one of the patients was awake. It wasn't uncommon for them to have nightmares or troubled sleep and she was used to having to get them back to sleep. Checking her charts, she discovered that this particular youth, Bryce Lynch, had suffered a traumatic shock as the result of seeing his fiancee killed before his very eyes. It was noted that he was suffering from traumatic amnesia and should not be addressed by name until he himself had used it first.

"You should be in bed, young man," she told him, in a stern but friendly tone.

The voice he spoke with was far younger than that of a boy of sixteen.

"I'm sorry. I can't sleep without my Jen-Jen."

"Your Jen-Jen?" Nurse Eigen tilted her head questioningly. "Honey, how old are you?"

"Seven," he said, simply. "Who are you?"

"I'm Nurse Eigen," she told him. "But you may call me Sally."

"Hi, Sally," he said, politely. "I'm Trace Carter."

Sally was careful not to let the frown in her mind reach her face. It wasn't uncommon for dissociation to take place in cases like this. Especially when the mind was beginning to remember a forgotten trauma sooner than it was ready to.

"Listen, Trace," she apologized, "I'm afraid I don't know where your Jen-Jen is. Can you tell me what it looked like?"

'Trace' nodded with a smile. "Jen-Jen's my stuffed leopard." he told her. "She's got white fur under her dots, though."

"A snow leopard," Sally said, making a mental note to buy him one. It wasn't in her duties, but if it helped him sleep at night it would make her job a lot easier. "Well, if I can't find her, can I buy you a new one?"

"I s'pose so," 'Trace' shrugged.

"Now, let's get you back into bed for the night, okay?"

"But I can't sleep without Jen-Jen!"

"Can we pretend that Jen-Jen went on a vacation?" Sally suggested.

"I guess we can do that." 'Trace' said, after a moment's consideration.

"Can I ask you something?" Sally asked.

'Trace' nodded as he got back into bed.

"Why did you decide Jen-Jen was a girl leopard?" Sally asked as she tucked him in.

"'cause momma leopards protect their cubs."

Sally smiled. "Good night, Trace."

"Good night, Sally."

Sally went back into the hall and closed the door. Standing there quietly, she made a note of the boy's newly emergent personality for the other doctors.

_Dissociation Personality Trace Carter emerged at three-fifty in the morning. He is a friendly boy of seven who has a little stuffed snow leopard named Jen-Jen whom he was looking for. He is very sweet and easy to get along with. He seems to trust nurses as he had no problems speaking to me._


	5. Chapter 5

-Chapter 5-

Dr. Cairns looked over the notes that had been added to the case file on Bryce Lynch later that morning, then went to find him.

He was in the cafeteria, sitting with an old woman. The doctor knew the woman, Mrs. Quentin, was a friendly sort, suffering from severe Alzheimer's.

Mrs. Quentin would've been in a nursing facility, except for the fact that the nearest one that was properly equipped for the treatment she needed was so far away that her family would not be able to visit her as much due to the rising costs of petrol.

"Good morning," Dr. Cairns said, to Mrs. Quentin. "I see you have a guest."

"Yes," Mrs. Quentin smiled. "This is little Trace. He's such a good boy. He was just telling me all about the little stuffed animal he lost. Poor dear."

'So,' Dr. Cairns thought to herself, 'the new personality is still in control.'

"I heard you lost your stuffed snow leopard," Dr. Cairns said to 'Trace' in a friendly tone.

"Yeah," 'Trace' replied. "But the nice nurse last night said she'd try to find her for me."

"That was very thoughtful of her," Dr. Cairns said. "Let's go talk in my office. There's some things I want to ask you about."

"'kay," 'Trace' agreed, smiling and nodding goodbye to Mrs. Quentin, who waved to him as he walked away.

When they were seated in Dr. Cairn's office, 'Trace' asked. "How come I'm here?"

"Do you know what a jigsaw puzzle is?"

"Yeah," 'Trace' replied, confusion in his voice.

"Well, right now you're like a puzzle. But some of the pieces are missing. We're going to help you find those missing pieces."

"Oh. Okay."

Dr. Cairns considered a moment, then asked. "Can you draw?"

"Not really well," 'Trace' admitted. "Funny isn't it? My name's Trace, and I'm a terrible artist."

"Yeah, it is kind of funny," Dr. Cairns smiled at him. "Your stuffed leopard."

"Jen-Jen?" 'Trace' asked.

"Where did she come from?"

"My mom gave her to me when I was very little," 'Trace' explained.

"What's your mother's name?"

"Theo," 'Trace' answered. "Theo Lauren Carter."

Dr. Cairns wrote the name down in the file. She was aware that Bryce had worked for Network 23 up until the tragedy, and that a woman named Theora Jones was on a team he worked rather closely with, along with Edison Carter.

"Is she pretty?"

'Trace' nodded. "Yes. She's super pretty. I bet she's worried about me. Can I call her later to let her know I'm okay?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Dr. Cairns said, worriedly. "Perhaps it would be better if she came here to visit you instead? Then she could maybe give you a hug?"

'Trace' smiled at this idea.

"Very good," Dr. Cairns said. "After we finish here, I'll call your mom and tell her you want to see her."

"Can you ask her to bring Jen-Jen?" 'Trace' requested. "I bet I just left her at home."


	6. Chapter 6

-Chapter 6-

"Where are you going?" Murray asked Theora as she stood up from her control desk. He knew she would not leave her operative in the lurch for no reason."

"To see Bryce," she replied. "Danny," she called over to the controller who'd taken her place during the incident with her brother Shawn a few months earlier, "take over until I get back."

"Why?" Edison asked over the link. "I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not," Theora said, clearly meaning it for Murray as well. "The doctor says that Bryce has developed a secondary personality named Trace Carter. Nothing to do with you, Edison. Sorry. He thinks I'm Theo Carter, his mother."

"I see," Edison said, sounding disappointed. "Well, tell him his friends are thinking of him."

"I can do that," Theora said, putting her coat on and leaving.

On her way to the hospital, she stopped off at Zik Zak Know Children to pick up a stuffed snow leopard. She hoped that Bryce, or 'Trace', would believe it was the one he called Jen-Jen. Arriving at the hospital, she made sure all the tags were removed from the little stuffed leopard. Then she got out of her car, locked the doors, and hurried inside as the rain that nobody had predicted started to bucket down.

"May I help you, Miss?" a receptionist asked her, politely.

"Yes, I'm Theora Jones. I'm here to see…"

"Miss Jones," Dr. Cairns asked, smiling as she approached. "I'm Dr. Cairns. I'm the psychologist assigned to the case of Bryce Lynch. Would you come with me, please?"

"Of course," Theora said, following her.

"He's still in dissociation mode at the moment," Dr. Cairns told her. "I just wanted to prepare you for that."

"Thank you," Theora told her, a worried expression on her face.

When they reached the psychiatric ward, 'Trace' spotted Theora. A childish grin lit up his features and he rushed over, hugging her.

"Mom!"

Remembering her acting lessons, as Murray hadn't been the only one to take them, she put her arms around him, the stuffed toy still in one hand, and kissed the top of his head in a motherly fashion.

"Hi, Trace," she said, smiling warmly at him. "How do you feel, honey?"

"Okay, I guess," 'Trace' said, quietly. Feeling the stuffed animal against his back he turned. "Jen-Jen!" he exclaimed.

"The doctor said you missed her," Theora told him. "Why don't you go put her in your room? I have to talk with your doctor, then you and me can have some time together? Okay?"

"Okay," 'Trace' agreed.

Once he was gone, Dr. Cairns escorted Theora to her office.

"Please, have a seat," she offered.

Theora sat down, looking at the diploma proudly displayed on the wall. "Cambridge?"

Dr. Cairns nodded, proudly. "Paid for my first year as a part time sandwich board girl for Zik Zak Know Clothes. Now, let's get down to business. I think you can help us help our young friend Bryce, or Trace as he currently thinks of himself."

"How so?" Theora asked. "He seems incredibly confused."

"From what I can make out," Dr. Cairns said, looking down at the file on her desk, "the elements of this personality's memories are taken from his real life. They are merely garbled. The name he's chosen for you, for example, Theo Carter, come from a partial acceptance of your own first name, and the last name of Mr. Carter. He's named his stuffed animal Jen-Jen, which I believe refers to the name of his lost fiancee, Jenny?"

"Where did you get all this information?" Theora asked.

"Mr. Cheviot gave us the names and some of his background when he came the other day and filled out the admissions paperwork."

"Oh. Of course. So, what can I do to help?"

"Well, I don't think he's ready to be released into your care just yet," Dr. Cairns told her. "But at this point, regular visits from you can help us with his emotional adjustment."

"Emotional adjustment?"

"We believe that his inability to face his emotions, thanks to that awful school he went to, is what led to his breakdown and eventually to the emergence of the personality known as 'Trace Carter'."

Theora smiled at the doctor's derisive tone when she had mentioned Bryce's school, which was the Academy of Computer Sciences. It was a school whose very curricula were seeped in logic. Having dealt with it, and Bryce during one particularly nasty point in their friendship, she agreed that while it had honed his technical and logical skills, it's emotions-are-illogical-and-a-waste-of-mental-energy belief structure had clearly caused terrible damage to him in other ways. She hoped that it could be reversed.

"I wish we could sue that damned school," Dr. Cairns admitted. "Unfortunately, we cannot. What we can do is work out a treatment program which will hopefully counter what it's done, and allow him to feel comfortable with his emotions."

"I'll do whatever it takes to help," Theora promised.

Dr. Cairns nodded, gladly. "You'll have to play the role of Theo Carter, mother of Trace Carter, for a while."

"I think I can manage that," Theora said.

"I'll ask 'Trace' questions about you and let you know what he says so you can give a convincing performance."

Theora chuckled.

"Something amusing about that?"

"When you said convincing performance, it reminded me of something I did during one of Edison's reports a few months ago," Theora explained. "It'd take to long to explain fully."

"Well, when our young friend has recovered and we have some time, I'd love to hear it," Dr. Cairns told her.


	7. Chapter 7

-Chapter 7-

"Mom," 'Trace' asked, once they were seated on the sofa in the corner of the Visitors Lounge. "Did they say when I could come home?"

"Not for a while, dear," Theora apologized. Seeing the sad look on his face, she added, "But I can come and visit often. And I will. I promise."

"I guess that's okay," 'Trace' told Theora. "But I'll miss you when you're not here."

"What are you having for supper tonight?"

'Trace' thought about it, as if trying to remember. "Lasagna, I think. I only glimpsed the menu at breakfast."

"That sounds delicious," Theora told him.

"I bet it's not as good as yours, though." 'Trace' said, unhappily. Unexpectedly, he curled up on Theora's lap, his arms around her, and began to cry.

Not knowing what else to do, she rubbed his back and held him until his tears were spent.

"What was that all about, hon'?"

"I don't know," 'Trace' replied, looking at her. "I just felt sad all of a sudden. Really sad."

"Well, that's okay, then," Theora told him, smiling softly.

"It is?"

"Of course, silly," Theora laughed, tapping the tip of his nose. "Everybody get sad sometimes. And it's okay to cry when you do."

"Oh. That's okay, then, I guess," Trace said as another patient and their guest walked in.

"It's our room now," the young man, who looked to be in his early twenties said. "So get out."

'That's rude,' Theora thought.

'Trace' didn't budge so the other patient grabbed him and pulled him off Theora's lap. "I said-"

He was unexpectedly grabbed by the collar

"Terry," the voice that came from Bryce was no longer childish, but Theora knew by the nickname that this was also not Bryce. "Move. I want to teach this bastard some manners."

"Let's just go to another room," Theora suggested, wanting to avoid a fight that would get her friend in trouble. "Please? He's not worth it."

Looking the rude man in the eye, the new personality curled his lip into a snarl. "Yeah. You're right, Terry. We'll leave the rude gentleman and the bitch alone for now."

Grabbing Theora by the hand, he led her into the hallway.

"I think I'd better go," Theora said, apologetically.

"Look, Terry, I'm sorry about acting so tough in front of you. I know you hate that sort of thing. But I just can't stand rude people like that. They bring out the worst in me. But you know that. Look at what happened in that restaurant the first time I tried to propose to you. Remember? That bastard waiter ruined the moment. He was rude wasn't he? Didn't even offer me a clean fork after his blood got all over the first one when I jabbed it into his hand."

Theora shuddered.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "I have to get back to work."

"I'll see you tomorrow then," he replied, and before she could move away, he kissed her.

On her way out, Theora stopped in at Dr. Cairn's office.

"If you're not busy, we need to talk."

"What's wrong?"

"I was just kissed by Bryce's newest incarnation."

"A new one?" Dr. Cairns asked. "Did he give his name?"

"No. But apparently he thinks we're engaged. And he's a bit violent. He even talked about stabbing a rude waiter in the hand with a fork."

"What happened before the emergence?" Dr. Cairns asked.

"We were in the visitors lounge when another of your clients came in with their guest. When he asked us to leave, 'Trace' ignored him. But then the guy grabbed 'Trace' and he …um…"

"Dissociated."

"Yes, thank you. He dissociated into a new personality. I don't know his name, though."

"I'll find out." Dr. Cairns told her. "Thanks for the heads up. Will we see you again soon?"

"I'm not sure," Theora admitted. "I can handle playing mother to one of Bryce's personalities. But I don't know if I'm willing to pretend to be his fiancee."

"I understand," Dr. Cairns said. "Shall I inform you if and when 'Trace' reemerges?

"Yes," Theora decided. "That would be preferable."

Shaking hands with Dr. Cairns, Theora turned and left the hospital.


	8. Chapter 8

-Chapter 8-

Dr. Cairns found Bryce, or rather his current personality, in the corridor outside the visiting room. He was leaning on the wall, cracking his knuckles. She could tell he was looking forward to a fight.

"I want to have a word with you," she told him.

"Later," he said. "I'm waiting to give a few bruises to the guy who made my fiancee walk out of here."

"That is precisely what I want to talk to you about-"

"Lash," he growled.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Yeah. I'm in some stupid hospital. Psych ward right? Because I'm a Raker, which makes me violent and anti-social. Look, I don't give a crap about that. You can't keep me here forever. I've got friends in high places. They'll get me out."

"Well, that might be so, Lash," Dr. Cairns said, calmly. "But we do not permit violence in this hospital. If you get out of line you will be sedated and placed in the Quiet Room."

"Yeah. Fine." 'Lash' snarled. "I'll be a good boy. Boring as that may be."

"Good. Now, come with me, there are other things we need to talk about."

Lash followed her, moving like an angry tiger.

"Sit," she said, knowing that he would be more receptive to a firm tone than a polite one.

'Lash' sat down, his posture dominating the chair. It was clear that he was trying to be as threatening as he could possibly be.

Dr. Cairns was not easily intimidated, however. "As I said, violent behavior will not be tolerated here. That includes threats and verbal abuse. Is that clear?"

"Yeah, whatever," 'Lash' said, making a shooing gesture at her as if to say he really didn't care one way or the other.

"Okay, let me put it this way," Dr. Cairns said. "Your girlfriend doesn't like violence either from what she's told me. So unless you start acting better she is going to leave you for good."

"She wouldn't dare," 'Lash' said, coldly. "She knows that if she tries the boys would be after her in a heartbeat."

"The boys?" Dr. Cairns asked.

"The other Rakers," 'Lash' explained. "And no I won't tell you their names. But if she tries to leave me…"

Dr. Cairns shivered. She was definitely not going to subject Theora to this personality again. She understood why he had emerged, but when Bryce's psyche was reconnected, she hoped that 'Lash' would not be included.


End file.
